


The Choice

by ausmac



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:54:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: That moment after one cinematic and before another, where a choice has to be made by two people.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	The Choice

**Author's Note:**

> I often love contemplating lore and potential story options, and this story follows my own ruminations of what might happen if Sylvanas decided to take a different path. It may possibly have a sequel.

"Make your choice, Sylvanas Windrunner."

He stood there, defiant, determined, so very human and in that moment both of them did indeed have a choice. To trust, or not to trust. And trusting was something in very short supply lately. But it had come down to that: a choice. Of whether to go on as she was, denying everything she had learned, or trust this young man with everything. Her fate, the fate of everyone, the fate of existence. And whether he would trust her against all logic.

The sword tip wavered and she let it sink until it rested on the floor. "In fact, you have a final choice." She watched him, trying to judge, to assess. "Whether or not to trust me."

His blue eyes widened and his mouth lifted in a predictable half-smile of disbelief. "Trust you. You, who have shown that you are not to be trusted. That seems an easy choice."

She sucked in a deep breath, steadying her temper. "I do not ask you to like me, nor do I suggest you forget my past deeds. But you do indeed have a choice in this moment. To refuse, at which time I will continue to enact his orders and turn you into his weapon. Or to listen and use your intelligence to consider my offer. No," she said, as he shook his head, "not the offer I made before. A new offer. A chance for yourself, to enact a possibility, as slim as it might be."

She watched him thinking, weighing and assessing her words and when he finally responded it was with natural caution. "Does it include helping me to escape?"

"At this moment that is impossible. You are held in his most secure area of Torghast. Even if I walked away your freedom wouldn't last beyond the first door. And I have no desire to be destroyed for disobedience. No, there is no escape possible for you at the moment."

"Then what?"

She drew a small circle in floor's dust as she watched him. "I have come to know certain things, to understand them and put them in perspective. What I have believed is based on falsehoods, on the plans of an ancient being who has manipulated the facts. Zovaal is the one responsible for my, shall we say, my current state. He created Frostmourne. He made it available for Arthas to take and use, and Arthas used it on me, killed me and raised me as a Banshee. Everything I am is due to Zovaal." Her nostrils flared as she considered it, as the anger she tried so hard to control swelled inside her gut. "Not so much a lie as a misdirection. He knew how much I hated Arthas and how my desire for revenge would cloud my judgment. But the creation of this thing," she said, tapping the sword on the floor, "was irrefutable proof. He gained the plans for it from the Runecarver, who was also responsible for Frostmourne."

Anduin nodded, eyes wide. "And he told you nothing of this?"

"Nothing. I doubt he gave it much thought. You said I am a weapon. I am less than that. I am a tool, as Denathrius was. Influenced to slaughter on Azeroth to provide him with the souls he needed, to deprive the Shadowlands of the anima it needed. I believed that ultimately the cosmos would be reshaped into what it was intended to be, to be a place of freedom and equality, yet his intentions were the opposite. He will gain ultimate power, probably by controlling Azeroth's soul, and send all of existence in the realm of Death. While life has not been of any interest to me since my remaking, I am uninterested in having even less choice than I had before."

"So what then?"

"He will bind you to him, through this sword. He will control you, use you for whatever plans he has."

Anduin took a step backwards, eyes wide. "And destroy my mind and soul in the process?"

"No, I don't believe so. I spoke to him of your fate, I warned him that destroying your mind, your soul, would likely result in your body dying a short time later." She shrugged. "And no, I have no idea if that's true but I needed a reason for him to leave you whole. But I cannot guarantee it. Either way, you will be bound to him. I've done the best I can, after that it is up to you."

"Up to me to do what?" Anduin spread his hands in frustration. "What can I possibly do if he controls me that thoroughly?"

"Fight it. Build up your mental strength. Draw on whatever teachings you were given about spiritual and mental power. Try to build walls while also finding weaknesses in his bindings. I believe he underestimates all living things, particularly you. Make use of that. And when the time comes, be ready to take advantage of that weakness."

He stared at her, obviously uncertain but showing no fear. There was so much of his father in those steady, unclouded eyes, but perhaps even more than Varian…some inner fortitude that was both quiet and as solid as steel. Finally he nodded. "I understand I think. I either lose my way willingly or have it taken from me. Do what you must."

And before he could do more than flinch she raised up the sword and pushed it into his chest, cutting through the armor as easily as a blade through cheese. The moment it touched his flesh he cried out in shock at the sword exploded in coruscating light that flowed over and into his body. The light faded away and she pulled back, withdrawing the sword that bore a small amount of his blood on its tip. 

And eyes that shone blue-white stared at her from face devoid of expression. His hair, no longer golden, had begun to turn silver gray. One who was no longer quite Anduin Wrynn turned and walked over the shining ring of runes and out of the room.


End file.
